


mixed signals

by thornbish (ephemerida)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Boneca deserved better, Fluff, I also can't tag stuff properly, I can't write anything other than cute, I'm sorry for that, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8581066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerida/pseuds/thornbish
Summary: Of all the boys he could have fallen for, why did it have to be him?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [illinois_e](https://archiveofourown.org/users/illinois_e/gifts).



> I had no time to think of a concrete plot and that's how this came to life. It's a story told in a hurry. Also, it's been a long time since I last wrote something in english (or something at all). That being said, this is a little gift I made with all my heart for you. I love you, and thanks for dragging me along into this crazy EXO hell ♡
> 
> (also, I didn't have any time to revise this, I'll be doing it later)

It hit him — as it always did — in the end of a practice session, his back on the floor and his eyes on the ceiling.

Jongin always loved dancing, more than anything else. He loved the way his body would get into the rhythm and his mind would do nothing but focus on moving his legs the right way, along with his hips, his hands, his chest. He was completely disconnected from everything else, words not quite getting to him in a way he could process the information as his muscles moved, almost on their own, again and again and _again_ — his body aching with the effort to achieve the perfect moves. He was their dancing machine, after all. Had to keep that title doing what he did best.

It was not until three in the morning that they stopped dancing, Junmyeon thanking them for their hard work, and then the sound of bodies hitting the floor, covered in sweat and exhaustion. His body felt numb, just as it always did before the pain of doing all that exercise hit him, and he let his eyes wander while his mind slowly started to function again: words sounding like words and not only white noise, senses slowly coming back as he wasn’t focused on dancing to the beat.

It hit him then. And he couldn’t tell how his body softly turned to the right, nor how long he was gazing at the same spot; he couldn’t tell at all. He could, instead, tell you about how Sehun would not let himself lie on the ground, sitting on a chair instead. He could tell you all about his dance moves and his rap lines, the colors of his hair and the little smile that would always be on his lips — what books he’d be reading and what music he’d be listening to, his most recent catchphrase, the way his eyes were straight like bullets when he was staring at you.

And just like that, he knew, like it was so obvious he should be ashamed to not have realized it weeks earlier, maybe months. Sehun looked at him and asked if everything was okay, if he zoned out again, if he wanted to drink some water (he was the younger one but sometimes it didn’t look like that, even if their births were just months apart; Sehun was kind, and considerate, and caring — just enough to balance that fried-ramyun-with-honey mess, just enough for everyone to clearly know he was their _maknae,_ the younger trickster brother all of them loved having); Jongin blinked and laughed, telling him he was okay, while the rest of them were getting ready to go back to the dorm. He was the last one to leave the room, gazing at his own reflection as he swallowed the dry realization that he had fell, of all boys, for Oh Sehun.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Why did it _have_ to be one of his members?

He was shocked at first, yes. Jongin would never deny if you asked him about loving Sehun — but he could also tell you about loving Yixing and Minseok and Junmyeon and Baekhyun. There was nothing wrong or even extraordinary about loving them. They had been together for so long now, had known each other’s worries, seen their tears and their wounds, that he could call them nothing less than brothers. They said blood is thicker than water, and what they had was thicker than blood; they lived, they loved, they cared.

Then, why _him?_

Everybody was back to the dorm, all of them bathed and quietly doing their own stuff (Jongin would remember how Zitao asked them to take a bath with him and smile). He was laying on bed, his heart beating fast, as if he didn’t stop dancing since he realized… well, _that thing_.

He couldn't get over the fact that it was Sehun. The younger one, the one that was closer to him, the damned 94 line; why _him_ , and not anyone else? If he fell in love with Yixing, or even Minseok, it would be so easier to get rid of it — not less hurtful, but at least he’d be conscious about the distance between them. Like, a totally platonic thing. But in the real situation, the fact that he was the closest one, the youngest, the one that noticed everything— it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind. Maybe if Sehun liked him back…?

Ah, _bullshit._ It wasn't even love, right? He had fallen for boys before, and it wasn't a heartbreaking thing (maybe just once. Or twice. He was a little bit of the sensitive kind). It would go away, and it wouldn't be the most awkward thing that happened to all of them.

But.

But what _if?_

 

Ah, what an unfortunate fate, his was. Jongin hid his face on his pillow, breathing deeply when what he really wanted was to scream. Not because it was tragic (just for the record, it _was_ ), but because he was doomed. Fifteen minutes of thinking-about-it-better and he was grateful for only realizing it now. No, he couldn’t even imagine how it would be if he had to look at him, _talk_ to him, knowing that Jongin himself liked him.

Like, _liked_ him. God, he wanted to scream _so much_.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next day was horrible, and so were the other two.

He couldn’t deal with it, to be sincere. Speaking frankly, you know. It was easy to be Kai in front of cameras and all, to be seductive or cute, to show his confidence about things he never thought to be confident about, but in the moment he turned into Kim Jongin again, it was a shame. Kai looked so cool doing almost anything, Jongin could barely pretend not to be startled whenever Sehun walked in. Kai would be funny about anything at any given moment, and Kim Jongin would hold his hands between his thighs, because they’d feel weird if Sehun were near enough. And don’t even let me get started on how he’d feel when Sehun _touched_ him — not even something intimate, just hugs. Holding his hand. Literally _anything_.

The thing is, Jongin knew it wasn’t going to be easy when he started to pursue his dream of being an artist. He knew he loved dancing — he could dance for hours, he would dance for days if his body let him —, and if he could do that for a living, then that was it. His parents even supported him, and he learned that it wasn’t always this way with the trainees; as time passed, he learned not everything would be so sweet, even if he succeeded and became an idol, but it was his dream, after all.

The truth was, he loved being on stage. He loved having eleven (and then ten, and then eight) brothers, each one a different personality that he would slowly learn and enjoy. He loved his fans. He even loved how exhausted he was after the concerts — it was a proof that it was real, every part of it was real, and he was living it.

Jongin was dancing in the terrace, the same choreography they would rehearse over and over and _over_ but he’d never be tired of. He always thought of it as a reason to be grateful: achieving his dream, having so much love towards him. Doing what he loved with people he held dear in his heart. He would often think of that when moments like this came, no matter how numb his brain became.

It was devastating, the silence. Being alone. Made him think a lot.

And then,

(exhausted sigh followed by the immobility of his body)

_Sehun._

It shouldn’t be this hard to like someone, right? He had crushes on lots of guys. Thought they were cute. Even kissed some of them, to be honest. It was no rocket science — he liked them, sometimes it hurt a lot, sometimes it was so tender he doubted it was humanly possible to feel that way. He tried to make some sense out of his recent feelings, but there wasn’t much he could say when he remembered (ears red as he burst with shame) about his recent encounters with Sehun.

It was exactly like being Jongin, and not Kai. He’d lose his words whenever Sehunnie talked to him, and his youngest member would be confused of the reason why, but he’d also wittingly lay his head on Sehun’s shoulders when they were waiting somewhere for food or permission to go, or on his thighs, when they were at home and Sehun would be watching TV or reading. His heart would beat so fast he could feel it in his throat, but he’d be satisfied. And Jongin kept it going like this, pushing and pulling, not quite knowing what he actually wanted to happen. Maybe that Sehun gave him some sign?, but that would also be a mess. He couldn’t count the strokes on his hair as a sign, right? Or their hands being intertwined. It was fucking _normal_. Shit.

Due to Sehun’s regular behavior, Jongin was _this_ close to explode in a pile of nerves.

See, this wasn’t some kind of romantic comedy — they were not “destined to be together”, and there was no plot to be followed. Jongin knew that ( _unfortunately_ , he’d say), and his worries would still be there, shaking hands and overreacting and all of that, ‘cause he knew what was on the table.

It could end _bad_ , you know, liking your bandmate. As in _falling in love with him_ . He’d rather not use these words, because they made it seem a lot more terrifying than it actually was (or at least that’s what he’d like to think). On one hand, Sehun could like him back, and it would be fine. On the other hand, he could confess and it would make Sehun hate him, or it could make the _others_ hate him, and he couldn’t bare to think about that. Minseok hyung knew that he liked boys, Yixing and Chanyeol as well, but still, he was terrified. What if he fucked up and Sehun couldn’t look at him with gentle eyes again? What if he weirded them out and the band would lose their unity, and they would no longer be like brothers, and then…

 _Breathe._ Okay, no need to overthink that. Or overreact over it. It was just a hypothetical situation.

 

Right?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _Of_ _course_ he would start to notice.

 

It’s not like he was living life inside a bubble, after all — they were mates (they were _friends_ ), and if Sehun didn’t notice how awkwardly Jongin was acting lately, what kind of friend he would be?

Still, he didn’t know what to do with his hands or how to answer when any of them asked him what was wrong. Nothing was _wrong_ — it was a sincere answer, since his stomach would feel like if he was riding a roller coaster, and it wasn’t bad at all if he didn’t think too much about it. At some moments he could even believe everything was just right, like when Sehun started going around the house and recording them doing whatever they were doing, or when he’d whisper something he noticed to Jongin so they could laugh together about it.

(He remembered how devastated he was when Yifan and Luhan left them; they were all brought to pieces, Junmyeon trying to calm them down, Tao not believing it was happening, Baekhyun trying to cheer them in any way he could, but Sehun would be the one to pray every night. He would pray for them to stay together, that please, _please_ , would God not let anything else happen to them, and then Tao left them. Everything went back to normal, eventually, but he could never forget how deeply he cared about them — the quiet, quirky boy that always had a smirk on his face; how he would be gentle to them in subtle ways whilst still being the one that would pull of all kinds of shenanigans.)

So, when Sehun caught him in his hiding place— that wasn’t exactly a _hiding place_ , since everyone knew he would be there but oh, well— and asked him what was happening, it was like his heart decided to jump from the terrace and left him behind, speechless.

Even his body felt uncomfortable, damn.

“You know what’s happening,” he tried to sound chill, but it sounded more like an animal dying. “I’m dancing. and stuff.”

“You know what I mean.” Sehun didn’t seem impressed that Jongin was trying to change subjects, nor convinced about his “coolness”. He came a few steps closer, looking him in the eye. “Unless you’re going to pretend that you’re not super awkward lately.” He blinked. Jongin wished he didn’t sound so serious. “I’m not the only one that noticed. Everyone is kinda worried.”

Mixed signals seemed to be _everywhere_.

“They’re not _worried_.”

“They’re not ‘we need to talk’ worried, but c’mon. You’ve been acting weird for, what?, a week or two? I mean, if it’s something serious, for God’s sake, just t—”

“It’s not serious,” Jongin sighed. He wanted to roll his eyes so hard, but crossed his arms instead. “I’m just nervous about the new choreography and the concerts and all, y’know.” _If there’s a God, please,_ please _don’t let him tell me that i was the fastest one to catch the damn choreography._

Sehun raised his eyebrows, and Jongin couldn’t tell if he was angry at him.

“Ok, Mr. ‘I’m EXO’s Dancing Machine’.” And there it was, the smirk in his lips again, and Jongin knew that he hadn’t believed him at all. “Also, we’re going to order a pizza. You should come downstairs. Preferably, without being a weirdo,” he laughed, before disappearing.

He stood there for ten good minutes before running down, yelling “PEPPERONI, PLEASE” like nothing had happened at all, and Sehun managed to sit near him, their knees touching every time he moved.

 

But he had to act normal. _Not going to be a weirdo this time_ , he said to himself.

Ah, he _wished_.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A whole month had passed since the day he realized that Sehun made his heart beat faster; he was still getting mixed signals, and now everybody seemed to know what was happening. They didn’t _tell_ him that, but he could see it in their eyes. Even if Minseok hyung swore to him that he hadn’t told anyone, being the only one that Jongin would desperately tell what was happening.

(Except for Yixing, but _come on_ , he had to tell someone or he would go crazy _himself_ )

Junmyeon looked at him as if he was his own mother or something, that slightly worried look on his face. Baekhyun seemed like he was being held back by Jongdae everytime he was about to say something, a grin in his face. Chanyeol would pat his head and say “it’s okay, kiddo” in a cheerful way, even if he didn’t have any idea of why.

Sehun was the weirdest, though — after the terrace incident, it was like he magically popped wherever Jongin was standing, or sitting, or doing _anything_. He’d say there was something about the way Sehun reached for his hand in the last concert, how he looked at him and smile and how their eyes would connect every single time he was moving on stage. He wouldn’t talk about Jongin being weird again, but would stare at him frequently, even after Jongin realized that someone was looking at him and looked back.

(The boy was shameless, I’d say. Or he was just having a fun time watching Jongin pretend he wasn’t embarassed.)

Jongin had found a way to stop acting like an electric shock hit him when Sehun interacted, as well, and his heart would only skip a beat whenever things like that happened. He still felt like screaming into his pillow, sometimes, but it got better — which didn’t mean he was liking Sehun any less. More like a “learned to deal with a perilous situation” kind of thing, I’d say. He kept thinking about confessing, and how it was either a good idea or a terrible mistake (Minseok would disagree on that, telling him to do it, already, everyone’s waiting for it, for God’s sake).

Then, when both of them were watching a movie with talking animals, it slipped out of his mouth like it was casual conversation.

_“You know that time when I was super weird about everything?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“Yeah, that was probably because I’m. You know. Into you. Kinda.”_

He knew Sehun would smile, because he always smiled (or he hoped so, not to deal with the bad route the whole thing could go into). He didn’t know what was going to happen next, though, his arms tense and rigid and his body aching with the expectation of something. _Anything_.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

_Wouldn’t he say anything?_

After a whole minute, Jongin would hear Sehun’s quiet voice, as tey both were looking at the television.

“I thought it could be something like that,” he laughed, quietly. “But you wouldn’t say anything, and I didn’t want to freak you out saying something like this, either. But that was _before_ Yixing hyung told me about you.”

“I _knew_ someone had said it,” he said, without thinking.

“Well, Yixing’s this kind of guy, but everyone eventually found out. He did a good job holding Baekhyun back, though. He was the one I was talking to, about you acting weird, and he’d be saying stuff like ‘KISS, ALREADY’ all the time. Thank Minseok for telling Yixing, or he would have said it like, a million times.”

Sehun looked for Jongin’s hand, glancing at him and blowing his fringe into a mess. Jongin blinked, and Sehun laughed again.

“You’re _such_ a weirdo, Kim Jongin.” And came closer, laying his head on Jongin’s shoulder, their hands on Sehun’s lap as they always were.

Jongin tried not to smile and failed when Sehun’s fingers intertwined with his.  He didn’t need a big scene, I guess.

 

Mixed signals were just fine.


End file.
